Shall I Have Him on Weekends, Then?
by DaughterOfStarlight
Summary: Mary and Holmes discuss terms of war. The prize? Doctor John Watson, of course. Bromance, Mary/Sherlock friendship. Reviewers will be awarded one pair of imaginary and circular Sherlock shades.


**Just a one-shot for those of us who believer Mary and Sherlock can coexsist in some wonderfully dissonant sense of harmony. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Such feedback is what dreams are made on.**

Mary knew something was amiss the moment she entered the study of 221B Baker Street. For one, the curtains were drawn tight against the spring sunlight, and if that wasn't a dead giveaway, a thick cloud of tobacco smoke hung in the dimmed room. What confirmed her suspicion that her fiancée was no where to be found was the lack of warm greeting or pleasant kiss for her, brought home by the icy atmosphere that radiated off only one person she knew.

"Hello…_Mary_," Sherlock Holmes said, spitting out her name with an amount of animosity usually reserved for Mrs. Hudson.

The woman gave a small smile, not bothering to turn around.

"Mr. Holmes. I should have known."

"How so?"

She held up a telegraph between her fingertips. "John hates using the wire. And he doesn't say 'indubitably' ."

"So it _was_ the syntax that gave me away. Blast."

She turned around to face the man sitting in the armchair behind her, feet up on an ottoman, face shrouded in cigarette smoke. "It isn't quite proper to bait young women into visiting you at your home, Mr. Holmes."

"My intent is hardly dishonorable."

"Of that I have no doubt. But I somehow doubt it's completely civil, either. Your petty display at appearing sinister isn't working, by the way."

"Oh? I thought the dim lighting was a nice touch."

"Indeed." Mary went to the window, throwing back the drapes. Holmes winced slightly, tapping out his pipe in a nearby ashtray. "You could have simply requested to see me for tea," Mary sighed.

"I was under the impression deceit was the only thing that would goad you into enduring my presence again."

She looked at him levelly. "You insulted me gravely, Mr. Holmes."

"Admittedly, my manner was brusque and my deduction minutely flawed-"

"But I do not hate you. As a matter of fact, I find your various eccentricities rather charming so long as they are not pointed at me. John likes you, therefore so do I."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, a woman whose emotions are defined by the male figures in her life. From that I would assume-"

"Your pointing it at me, Sherlock."

He stopped abruptly, partially because he was unaccustomed to being cut off mid-deduction but mostly because no one, _no one_, called him by his first name. No one presumed to upon meeting him, and he never allowed that sort of common familiarity. Yet she assumed it so easily…

"My apologies," He muttered.

Mary settled onto the sofa across from him, making herself perfectly at home.

"So. You obviously wished to speak with me?"

Holmes nodded, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. Mary found her governess instincts taking over at his rakish appearance, but she resisted the urge to straighten his waistcoat and run a brush through his hair.

"I wished to discuss terms of war in a sporting manner."

Mary's eyebrows shot up. "Terms…Of war?"

"Don't play the innocent, Miss Mortsan. We're pitted against each other, you and I."

Mary laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. "Is this about John? You can't be serious, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh, but I am! I thoroughly rely on Watson and you've snatched him out from under me like a murderous hawk does a gosling."

"Lovely analogy…"

The great detective narrowed his eyes at her. "He seems dead set on marrying you, that I cannot control. He also is intent on taking up residence with you; again I cannot control accepted social standards to which he feel he must confine himself. But this is where we come to a gray area."

Mary took a biscuit off the tea tray on the table between them; one left out by Mrs. Hudson no doubt. Holmes didn't do a lot of entertaining.

"Grey area?" She repeated, taking a dainty bite off the biscuit.

"Well, how often do you intend to keep him? Allowing for leisure time, social engagements, conjugal visits and the occasional shared meal, there is a still a discrepancy between the time he has and how much of it he must spend with you. "

Mary set her biscuit down, suddenly a little more sweet about the situation.

"Sherlock…Is this your strange, misguided little way of assuring that you will be able to see John after we're married?"

"You make it sound so elementary."

"It is. You two are exceptionally close friends and you don't want to lose him. If I didn't know better," She laughed. "I'd say there was some kind of illicit affair between the two of you that I was disrupting."

Suddenly a scheming sparkle came to Holmes's eyes, and he leaned in a little closer, deathly quiet.

"And what if there was?"  
>"There isn't."<p>

"Oh? For all you know he could be marrying you to cover his tracks."

"Oh hush. I asked him."

Holmes nearly choked. "You what?"

"Well naturally I wondered. With you being so…unconventional and all. But he put my fears to rest."

"So…No chance of scaring you out of the marriage using that form of sabotage?"

"I'm afraid not."

Mary rose, picking up her purse and crossing to the overstuffed armchair where Holmes sat.

"You are aware I'm a governess, so you must be ale to deduce that I have some prominence in dealing with spoiled and greedy children."

Holmes narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Indeed…"

"For example, the child who perhaps doesn't get enough love at home, very bright albeit misguided. This child enjoys their feelings of superiority over the other children that their intelligence brings, but is in fact very lonely. So when this child finds a true friend or perhaps a favorite toy that becomes quite endeared to them, they refuse to share this favorite companion with the rest of the children, despite the wishes of the companion."

Holmes had absolutely no witty remark to pass on this statement. Mary stood behind the chair, running her fingers lightly through his hair.

"I always shared my toys, Sherlock, and was always eager to make new friends. I understand you're currently looking for a worthy case and find yourself in need of a nemesis, but I assure you it is not me."

"And I assure you feminine wiles have no effect on me, woman."

"Feminine wiles? You call this wiles? You need to get out of your study more, Sherlock."

"Why do you insist on using my first name?"

"Because I like it and I don't find you as intimidating as you would like."

Holmes considered this for a moment, not letting himself admit to himself that her warm, inviting presence was not completely unpleasant. The thought that he could learn to enjoy the company of the woman snatching away his closest friend was deplorable to him, although it was slowly becoming more and more plausible.

"Do you know why I asked my lady to lend me her rubies on the night we met?" Mary asked quietly.

"Simple; the Royale is a high-scale establishment. Some symbol of status was required to ensure you blended in nicely."

"Wrong. You do not take into account human emotion into you calculations, Sherlock. That is your one flaw."

He ground his teeth, hating himself for missing something. "Alright, I'll try agai-"

"That wont be necessary. I had heard so much about you, from the papers, from John, and owed you so much that I wanted to look my best when we met. It's a simple desire, perhaps a girlish one, but that is why I asked nonetheless. I wanted to look nice for you."

He took a moment to absorb this, feeling an emotion as close to humility as Sherlock Holmes can possibly attain. Then he asked quizzically,

"Owed me so much?"

Mary sighed.

"Do you remember Lady Sherrington? Her husband went missing?"

"Ran off with the scullery maid; it took me four and a half seconds to figure that."

"Yes, well I happened to be working for Lady Sherrington at the time of this realization; I was teaching her youngest music and physics. Once she pulled out of her pit of despair and grief, she sent me on an errand to drop off your fee. Do you know who answered the door when I got here? John. Were it not for you, I may have never met him."

She paused a moment, gathering her words. "He told me you were a good man, and despite the fact that you shamed me in front of him, I still believe that. And together, you make a wondrous pair of _great_ men. You partnership has quite literally made London a better place. I have no intent of keeping him away from you, Sherlock, as bad an influence as you may be."

Here he paused for a moment, merely taking in the situation. Then he said,

"So…shall I have him on weekends, then?"

Mary kissed the top of his head. "And holidays, naturally. Except Christmas."

"Boxing Day?"

"All yours."

"His birthday?"

Mary considered this for a moment, gathering her things and heading for the door. "We'll share."

Holmes took a thoughtful puff off his pipe, appeased for the moment. "I'm not very good at sharing."

Mary winked at him as she slipped out the door. "I'll teach you."


End file.
